


Until The End Of Me

by metalmeisje



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Gore, Knives, M/M, Rape, Violence, dubcon, mindfuckery, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalmeisje/pseuds/metalmeisje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Ridge had been content when Xephos ran for his life and listened to his footsteps echo against the damp walls until Ridge had found him. Once, he’d been content when Xephos knelt and bent his head and just agreed with whatever Ridge was saying. But not any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until The End Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> (I feel like this needs a little explanation. This is based off of a RP verse I am doing in which Xephos is a literal space man; made from bits of void and stars by a very much fucked up Ridgedog, who felt the need to trap the void like it had trapped him before. It's... A big fucking mess, really. Featuring Ridgedog corrupted by the void and Xephos as his plaything. I'm.. not really sorry. Please read the tags and warnings and proceed with caution. Title/lyrics are from [Broken Inside by Broken Iris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uE0EqdIYr7I).)

_the thinning line between_  
_you and my sanity  
_ _is quickly fading_

“Tell me when to stop, Xephy.”

Ridge’s smile is  _almost_ sweet when he takes Xephos’ wrist, rough fingers running over the smooth, freckled skin as he watches Xephos like a hawk. His grin doesn’t waver, merely intensifies when he breaks the second bone of Xephos’ index finger, the  _pop_ sickening and much too loud in the otherwise silent room. Xephos chews on his cheeks until all he can taste is copper but he doesn’t make a sound. Not this time.

He hadn’t been so lucky the first four fingers; he’d screamed and thrashed and tried to elbow Ridge in the face even when he knew that wouldn’t accomplish much other than piss him off. But every time he screamed, voice broken and hoarse, Ridge had deemed it a good idea to kiss him and swallow every sound that escaped the spaceman as if he thrived on it.

Maybe he did.

This time, Xephos swallows the strangled yelp that wants to escape him and tries to ignore the pain that shoots through his broken joints, trying not to struggle and make matters even worse. Even if every bit of him is screaming to fight back, he knows that every bit of violence he throws Ridge’s way will only be thrown back at him a thousand times worse. So he bears it, swallows down the bile that rises in his throat and set his jaw as he waits for this to pass, too.

“Better. Come on, starlight. You know I can make you feel so good – why do you force me to hurt you so?”

Ridge shifts a little and Xephos stares up, trying to ignore the weight that is so heavy on his chest that he can barely breathe. He has to tear away his gaze from Ridge’s burning eyes and it almost hurts, caught in the headlights that he hates so much, but eventually he manages; he settles his gaze on the ceiling that hides the open air that he knows,  _knows_ is there. It has to be. Even if Ridge has told him so often that it’s just an illusion, ran his knife over the rough stones above their heads with a screeching sound that made Xephos grit his teeth, the belief that the stars are still up there somewhere is the only thing that keeps him going.

The ground is rough against his bare back. Some part of him is grateful that Ridge at least let him keep his pants on but it doesn’t do much to soothe the ache that he seems to be made of nowadays more than stars and galaxies; knowing you are made of stardust doesn’t make you bleed any less. But every time he tries to shift under Ridge’s weight the scrapes and cuts on his back flare up in agony, so he’d given up on that, too.

Without warning, Ridge drops his hand again and Xephos hisses when it falls against his chest, fingers forced into a half-curl and none of the muscles responding other than a helpless twitch that sends sharp bolts of pain through his hand as the shards of broken bones scrape against each other. It just makes Ridge’s eyes light up with pleasure and Xephos winces, hates himself for it but does it anyway as he holds his hand against his chest, still refusing to meet Ridge’s eyes.

“You look so beautiful when you’re broken,” Ridge whispers, one hand slipping around Xephos’ neck to lift his head from the floor, and Xephos’ eyes snap back to Ridge’s face just in time to see him close  _too close_ before Ridge bites his way into Xephos’ mouth, teeth getting caught on already bruised lips and breathing in every poorly held back gasp that escape Xephos. The godling makes sure that his weight rests on Xephos’ hand so its caught between them, the added pressure only pushing the bones out of place even more despite the way Xephos tries to keep his hand close to his chest as he hesitantly kisses back.

It tastes like copper and hate and he refuses to give Ridge the satisfaction of actually enjoying it, but the blood that trickles from his lips isn’t nearly as bad as some of the other things, so he folds and waits and prays for it to be over soon.

He hates this. He hates the soft touches even more than the violence, even if it’s laced with sharp pain anyway; it makes him drop the guard he has been working so hard to keep up, Ridge’s ministrations carefully tearing down the walls brick by fucking brick until Xephos feels like he can’t even remember what it was like outside. All he breathes and tastes and feels is Ridge, pressing up against him, and with a quiet sound Xephos shuts his eyes as tightly as he can, digging his heels into the floor with as much force as he can to keep the rest of him quiet.

At least with his eyes closed, it’s  _almost_ easy to focus on anything other than Ridge kissing him, claiming him for his own for the fourth time that night as a bloodied tongue slips in and leaves him with barely any air. At least with his eyes closed he can pretend that they are travelling through the void again and Xephos holds his breath, desperately grasping at the faint echo of the feeling he gets when the endless darkness pulls and pulls at them. He tries to will himself to fall apart, surrenders to the darkness as he stares at the inside of his eyelids and remembers what it feels like to let all the stars inside him burn so bright that they might just tears him apart.

Ridge pulls back, an almost hurt expression darkening his eyes just a little more, and he tsks quietly. “What’s the matter, starlight? Don’t want to watch?” he asks, voice dripping with disappointment Xephos has to believe is fake. There’s something ice cold against his cheek and Xephos lets out a broken sound as his eyes snap open, feeling more than seeing the blade pressed against the skin just under his eye.

“If you don’t want to look, I can make it easy on you, my dearest.” Ridge suggests, and it takes every bit of self-restraint Xephos has not to shake his head in denial. He can almost feel the edge of the blade part his skin, so fucking close to his eyes, and he doesn’t want it to be dark, not again. This darkness he doesn’t trust. He can feel the not-quite-memory of the way his eyeball pops out of its socket as if it means nothing and the only thing worse than the pain that came with it was the darkness that followed, absolute and nowhere near as comforting as the void’s incorporeal fingers wrapping around everything he was would ever be.

“Please,” he whispers, forcing himself to keep his eyes open as he stares up at his captor with a silent plea that lights him up from the inside. He hasn’t been above begging for a while, even though it tears him up to do it; every time desperation slips from his tongue it feels like a lost battle, every inch given leaving an empty space that Ridge is all too willing to fill up. But a part of him longs for the soft touch that always follows, no matter how fake it is.

Ridge’s hand slides over Xephos’ bare chest, watching every emotion flicker behind brightly burning eyes, and Xephos tenses up when he feels the dark currents of Ridge’s power reach out and leave red scorch marks in their wake. They cut bright pathways through the freckled constellations that litter Xephos’ skin like tiny glimpses of the galaxies that he was made to hide, muted cyan starlight flaring up at every touch and lighting up the space between them as Ridge crosses them out one by one. Ridge’s grin is all teeth and his nails dig into the soft skin of Xephos’ side and it’s enough to make him flinch in pain, back arched from the hard, cold floor in a reflex he doesn’t have the energy to hold back any more.

He just wants to be good. If only because it will make his hand stop throbbing so much that he feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Beautiful,” Ridge repeats, and slips a hand past his waistband with sudden eagerness - and something in Xephos breaks. He growls, low in his chest and primal like the animal that Ridge has made him, and despite the pain that shoots through his arm he pushes against the solidity that is Ridge in an attempt to wriggle away from under him. His other hand grabs at everything he can find, nails out and tearing at Ridge’s coat in an attempt to throw the other man’s balance off long enough to allow him to get away. As if that was ever an option.

“Get off, get  _off,_ let me  _go-“_

It’s useless, a mess of syllables that Ridge drinks in as he shifts his weight and tears his hand away from Xephos’ skin, meeting the spaceman’s panicked eyes with a look nothing less than predatory as he digs his nails in Xephos’ wrist and pins it above his head.

“Let you go? Oh, starlight,” Ridge breathes, leaning forward as he bares his teeth into a grin. “Why do you keep fighting me? You are right where you belong – but maybe I should help you remember that.”

Without missing a beat the blade he’d discarded moments ago is back in Ridge’s hand and he keeps his eyes on Xephos as he lets it hover above Xephos’ eye for a moment, the tip of it so close that it takes everything Xephos has not to close them in fear of what he know Ridge will do. And not for the first time that night, he wishes that the ground would just open up and swallow them both, drag them down until they fade away into nothingness because he would gladly give this excuse for a life up if it meant getting away.

It takes a second. Then two. But finally, Ridge moving so fast Xephos barely has time to notice it, the blade plunged down and tearing apart flesh and skin as Ridge pins his hand to the floor.

Xephos screams.

Skin parts easily and the broken bone fragments grate against each other as they made room for the cold metal that is shoved through nerves and sinews, muscles and flesh, and his fingers twitch like a butterfly pinned to a display. Ridge swallows the broken sound with another bruising kiss and Xephos almost bites him, lashing out like a wounded animal as Ridge grabs his other hand and pins it above his head as if his struggles mean nothing.

Vaguely, Xephos wonders why the blade doesn’t bounce off of the stones but instead finds purchase there, settles snugly into the hard rocks; but then he remembers that for someone who can shove the void into a fragile human-shaped vessel, shifting a bit of fucking stone probably means nothing.

He doesn’t stop the whimper that escapes him when Ridge jiggles the knife a little, casually making sure it is perfectly in place. “I am so sorry,” Ridge says, but he does nothing to heal the pain that rips through Xephos as he strains against the hold Ridge has on him. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, starlight. You know that fighting back only makes it worse.”

Ridge leans back a little, eyes travelling over every inch of his masterpiece, and Xephos doesn’t have the courage to move his other arm when Ridge lets go of him. There is a spark of appreciation that flashes behind the dark golden glow of Ridge’s eyes, barely anything and probably as fake as everything else that the man shares, but Xephos drinks it in anyway and stays still as he wills himself not to vomit. His arm aches and every time his fingers twitch the pain runs through it like cold fire, spreading faster and faster until he can barely think any more.

Which shouldn’t feel as a blessing but by now, it really does.

The nails of his free hand scrape over the stones until they break and his raw finger tips hurt, but he needs to find  _something_ to try and hold on to when Ridge sits back and runs a hand over Xephos’ bare chest, aiming to paint the pale skin with new marks and scratches that hurt even more than the cuts on his back do. Xephos keeps his eyes wide open, staring at Ridge with poorly hidden fear as Ridge’s powers dance over his skin and the heat of it chases away the chill of the room. Xephos isn’t sure which one he prefers but he can’t stop his back from arching up, away from the cold floor and chasing the feeling because even if it hurts it’s infinitely better as a distraction than the throbbing of his hand or the way his heart hammers against his ribcage like it’s too small to fit in there.

The panic makes him dizzy and Ridge latches onto it, grins and digs his nails into the soft flesh of Xephos’ stomach, ignoring the way the muscles tense and shift under red skin as he whispers poisonous praise. Xephos doesn’t want to hear it but he can shut his ears no more than his eyes now, so the words worm their way inside and echo in his head until Ridge is all he can hear, deafening and tearing him apart with every syllable.

_You are mine._

_I love you._

_My starlight._

_You are **mine**._

And eventually, Xephos nods.

“Yes. Y-yours, please…”

His reward is a kiss that sparks and burns and this time Xephos opens his mouth willingly, anything to block out the pain that seems to have taken every inch of him and fills his head with a humming sound that he can’t shut out no matter how hard he tries. He is pliable even when Ridge is all sharp teeth and fingers digging into his skin until bruises bloom underneath his touch, folding himself against his captor and he wonders if this is what dying stars feel like. Burning brighter and brighter until their light spills through the cracks of everything he is and scorch away everything until he is unmade and Ridge can gather the particles of stardust so he can mould them into something new.

Somewhere in between Ridge biting his lips until they bleed and leaving teeth marks in his neck, Xephos loses his pants and Ridge gains another knife. Xephos doesn’t know if he magicked it out of nowhere almost as if he’s showing off, or if he had it hidden in his coat all along; but he watches it with wide eyes, the flickering light the only thing that illuminates the darkness that has settled down around them. Ridge smiles and licks his lips and Xephos holds his breath, gaze glued to the blade reflecting the light that spills from his eyes.

“What-“

“Hush,” Ridge interrupts him without missing a beat, and just like that he lifts himself just enough so that he can settle between Xephos’ legs instead of on his chest. “I always take care of you.”

He can’t help but tremble when Ridge pushes his legs even further apart and Xephos didn’t think it was possible but he feels his cheeks heat up, freckles lighting up in panic and a blush spreading down his chest as Ridge watches him intently. He can almost feel Ridge’s eyes wander over him, taking in every scratch and mark he’s left and grabbing Xephos’ thighs with bruising force as one hand bring the knife down between his legs.

“No, no…”

There is nowhere to go but Xephos tries to shuffle up and away from Ridge anyway, crying out when the movement tears his still bleeding hand open even further; there’s something cold tracing over the insides of his thighs and pressing down until it almost breaks the skin, and all the while Ridge just grins.

“You know you make it worse when you move, starlight.”

He curses Ridge’s creativity with all he has.

The blade slips between his ass cheeks and Xephos lets out a strangled sound as he feels the tip of it sharp and unmoving, forces himself to stay still regardless of how every bit of instinct he has left is howling in protest. He wants to get away, arch away from the icy steel that is pressing in as the sharp edge of it already draws blood. It’s hot against his skin but he doesn’t care, all he can do is lie as still as he can even though it makes his muscles ache with the strain of it.

Once upon a time, Ridge had been content when Xephos ran for his life and listened to his footsteps echo against the damp walls until Ridge had found him. Once, he’d been content when Xephos knelt and bent his head and just agreed with whatever Ridge was saying. But with his freedom came the will to fight and Ridge had seen it, latched onto it as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; and maybe it was. Xephos had never asked him, but there had been something in the way Ridge tore at his skin that made him think that he was almost as eager to see starlight spilling from the cracks in his skin as Xephos was to watch the stars glittering above him.

Everything in him aches to run, still. But he’s pinned in place by steel and darkened golden light. Ridge runs his free hand over Xephos’ thigh, caresses the bruises he finds there as he presses the knife in slow and precise, iron spilling and tearing open soft flesh until Xephos whines in pain.

“Why won’t you accept my love?” Ridge asks, almost sweet, and Xephos feverishly shakes his head.

“No,  _yes_ , please…”

_Anything?_

_Anything._

Anything is better than that knife and he’s  _grateful_ when it’s just Ridge between his legs. Once Ridge thrusts in and tears open the small wound even more, teeth in Xephos’ neck as if he’s sinking them into the thing he hates most even though he says he loves him ( _he loves me, I can’t, I won’t, he does_ ), Xephos is so relieved that the knife has been chucked away that he is all too willing to arch his back and let Ridge in. And at least all the different bits of him that ache bleed together until it’s all he can feel, clouding his head until all he breathes and feels is the fire that burns him up as Ridge tells him who he belongs to.

It doesn’t stop.

Not even when Ridge’s weight on top of him is so heavy that Xephos forgets to breathe, waiting until his vision goes dark at the edges before he gasps shakily and his bones rattle with the force of it. Ridge steals it from him with a harsh kiss and Xephos moulds against him, desperately clinging to the soft edges of fake affection as it covers the pain that makes every muscle in his body tense up despite his best efforts. There is nothing good about it but he almost weeps when Ridge runs a hand over his sides without tearing the skin open, chest heaving with the sobs he holds in because maybe it will make him dizzy enough that he passes out.

But Ridge doesn’t allow him that courtesy. Fingers dig into the softness just underneath his chin and hold his head in place as Ridge fucks him, eyes burning brighter and brighter at every strangled cry until even his  _throat_ hurts.

_Mine._

Eventually, Ridge’s body covers every inch of Xephos and he shakes uncontrollably, every bit of contact hurting from the overspill of Ridge’s powers on top of everything else. He prays for the void to take him but just this once the shadows stay where they belong, curled up in the corner without lapping at his feet and tugging at him until he feels like he is falling apart.

Ridge frees his hand, pulling the knife out of the stone a little too harshly and watches it come away covered in blood. He looks at it intently for a moment before he sets it down next to them and takes Xephos’ broken hand in his own. “There, there, it’s okay,” he says, and all Xephos can do is nod and let the tears fall as Ridge carefully holds his hand, a soft glow surrounding them as his powers heal every bit of broken bone and torn skin until the pain of it fades to a dull ache.

It takes him four attempts to sit up properly and even then Xephos leans against Ridge, curled up against the other man’s chest and silently crying as soft fingers card through his hair and lie after lie passes over his head.

_My starlight._

_I will take care of you._

_I love you._

He doesn’t care. The softness of Ridge’s coat is almost blissful and does just enough to chase away the cold that has settled in Xephos’ bones, and he finally closes his eyes and bunches up the soft fabric in between shaking fingers as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“You are mine.”

“Y-yes. Yours.”


End file.
